


A Little Less Conversation

by psiten



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Background Atobe Keigo/Echizen Ryoma, Established Serial One Night Stands, Everyone Is At Least 22 Years Old, Future Fic, Language Barrier, M/M, References to Sex, Social Alcohol Drinking Mention, Valentine's Day, it's not complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psiten/pseuds/psiten
Summary: What happens when one person who really doesn't speak Japanese kinda sorta has a serial hook-up relationship with someone who really doesn't speak English?Don't ask Kirihara and Kevin. They are definitely sure that, whatever they're doing, it isn't a relationship. I mean, do they even know each other's names? Who cares if it's Valentine's Day! This is not a date.(Originally written for the TeniPuri Valentines 2018 zine, "Love Game".)





	A Little Less Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> A few lines in this are written in Japanese using Romaji, however, the story was meant to be understandable even if you don't know the meaning of those lines. Enjoy!

     When Kevin let himself into Ryoma's apartment, he didn't find his friend in the front room like he expected, or in the kitchen, or in the laundry room (man, he would kill for a washer at his place so he didn't have to go to the laundromat), or in the bathroom. Instead, for some reason, he was in his bedroom, packing a suitcase. About a third of the space was filled with soda cans, so wherever he was headed, his rival didn't think he'd find that fizzy grape crap for sale.

     "Hey, Ryoma."

     "Hey yourself. What's up?"

     "Oh, nothing." Falling back on the bed, he threw Ryoma a look he hoped was nonchalant. He didn't want anybody thinking he was desperate. And by, 'anybody', he meant Echizen Ryoma. "But you know, tomorrow's February 14th. Single People Awareness Day."

     The other tennis player squinted at him. "Are you talking about Valentine's Day?" Then he went right back to folding socks to pack into his suitcase, as if this wasn't important. Rude. If this wasn't important, Kevin wouldn't have come all the way out to Manhattan!

     "Yeah, whatever. Anyway, how about you and me hit the town, two lone wolves out on the prowl? What do you say?"

     "Two people together aren't lone wolves."

     "Fine, two not-lone wolves on the prowl," he groaned, waving his hands over his head while Ryoma pulled his folded pants out from under where Kevin was lying. "The point is, on Valentine's Day, of all days, we bachelors have to look out for each other, live it up, not let all the schmaltz ruin the day!"

     "Pass."

     "Oh, come on!"

     Ryoma pointed at the suitcase he was packing, as if that meant anything. "Kevin. I'm going to Rome for Valentine's Day. With my boyfriend. Who you know about, because I've been dating Atobe for, like, seven years. Not secretly. Speaking of which, you'd walk in on us fucking a lot less if you called before you came over. Or if you knocked."

     Ugh. Right. As if he wouldn't be able to hear it from the hall and _know_. Could anyone really blame him for preferring to believe that wasn't a thing? "I don't get why you put up with that asshole," Kevin growled as he rolled into a pillow. "You know, this _could_ be the year you leave him."

     "Nope."

     "So what am _I_ supposed to do, then?!"

     "Not my problem. Pass me the shave kit on my nightstand?"

     Kevin chucked it at Ryoma, who barely had to look at it to catch it. He was getting way too good at everything. Trying to keep up in the next Open would probably mean Kevin had to double his training time. And apparently Ryoma wasn't going to listen to anything Kevin wanted, so there wasn't much point in staying.

     Kevin got to his feet with a grunt. "Fine, then. I guess I'll have all the single person fun _by myself_. Enjoy your holiday in _Rome_."

     A sigh came from the Japanese player who utterly refused to show reason, as if Ryoma thought he was the one being inconvenienced here! He could almost hear his friend rolling his eyes as he said, "Why don't you hook up with Kirihara? He's staying at the Plaza all week for some sponsorship deal," like one of those random Japanese friends Ryoma had picked up in middle school was supposed to mean something to him.

     Then he finished searching his memory for that name and nearly tripped over his own feet on the way out the door. If Kirihara was the one Kevin thought he was, then probably the Plaza was the last place in the world he should show his face tomorrow. Oh god. That definitely was Kirihara he was remembering. He'd heard enough room service delivery people at hotels say that name by now to be sure.

     "Why... would I want to hook up with Kirihara?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound too guilty but knowing it absolutely fucking did.

     "I don't know." Ryoma shrugged, tossing a box of condoms in his suitcase, and wow, Kevin had really not needed the reminder that his rival was planning to have more sex with the world's most dramatic prick while he was in Rome. But Ryoma kept talking like it was no big deal. "It's a thing you do. If you don't want to, then don't. I'm not talking about your sex life anymore."

     "Great. Awesome. Bye," Kevin said. He couldn't get out of this apartment and away from this conversation fast enough.

~//~

     He did end up at the Plaza Hotel bar, but that was only because every other place in the city was full of sappy couples, and definitely not because he thought there was a chance of running into a particular person. It was a big hotel! Two people could hang around all night and never run into each other! Maybe the guy wasn't even in tonight, and Kevin would be able to drink his screwdriver in absolute peace. What more could a guy want? Well, except a margarita, which was what he actually wanted to order, but apparently the lobby bar at the Plaza was too classy for blenders, and he wasn't going to just leave after leveraging every drop of celebrity he had to get a reservation for a table on Valentine's Day at the last minute, because as much as he tried to ignore them, this place was also full of sappy couples, and if somebody didn't show up soon to take his mind off it, he was gonna go nuts.

     Not that he was sitting at one of the tables with a view of the door, scoping out the lobby, no sir. Not him. It was an accident that he happened to be looking that way when a familiar mop of black hair came walking across the too-fancy tile floor, dressed in a suit just fancy enough for a night on the town. The fact that Kirihara stopped dead as soon as he got a look at the bar probably had nothing to do with him being--

     Oh, shit. Kirihara was taking a turn straight for his table and saying something into a cellphone that he hung up right away. That asshole was cancelling his plans.

     Kevin tried to act like he hadn't noticed anything, but it wasn't like he could give an excuse when he didn't speak more than five words of Japanese and Kirihara spoke even less English. It was only a matter of time before the guy got over to his table and--

     "Oi, oi. Omae, hitori?"

     Rolling his eyes, Kevin kicked the other chair out so the asshole could sit. "You can shut up, you know. If you haven't figured out yet that I don't speak your language, you're stupider than I thought."

     "Aikawarazu okotta kao, na. Hitori nara, tsukiatte ageyou," he said with a damn smirk.

     "Just sit, asshole."

     Like any top class establishment, the server was over to the table almost before Kirihara's butt was in the seat, asking, "What may I get for you?" or whatever it was servers said. Kevin didn't really listen.

     He was more concerned about the look on Kirihara's face as he glanced around the tiny table. It was somewhere between the kind of panic you get when you misplace your car keys and the embarrassment of finding out your fly was down the whole time after an interview. It took Kevin a second, but he managed to put two and two together. Kirihara never knew how to order in English, even if he could guess why the server was at their table. Whenever they were somewhere English-speaking, he always ordered by putting his finger down randomly on a menu, which sometimes had some hilarious results. But the server had already taken Kevin's menu, so there wasn't one to use.

     "Is there something I can help you find, sir?" the server asked.

     Kevin waved to get Kirihara's attention and stop him from looking at the server like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then made an X with his forearms -- one of the two signals they both understood. It was the one that meant, "Stop" and/or "No," which threw Kirihara even more for a loop than he was already, but at least he stopped acting like an idiot for two seconds.

     He took over talking to the server. "Uh, hey. My friend doesn't speak English. He wants..."

     The word he'd planned to say was, "a menu," but after all this time, he'd kind of figured out what the guy liked and what he didn't, so what was the point in playing the odds?

     "My friend wants a bellini."

     "Of course. One moment, sir."

     As soon as the server was out of earshot, Kirihara shot him a puzzled look. "Omae, nani wo iitakke?"

     "You're welcome. Geez, how did you even check in here? Your manager probably does everything, right?"

     Both of them crossed their arms and stared at each other in silence until the server came back with a champagne flute for Kirihara, and Kevin told him, "Thanks. And I changed my mind. I think we're gonna eat here."

     "Very good. I'll bring back the menus."

     Kirihara took a cautious sip of his drink. This time, at least, he looked pleasantly surprised. Instead of saying anything, the guy shot him a thumbs up, which was their sign for, "Good," and/or "Yes." As if Kevin would've ordered a drink he didn't like! That would've been a waste of booze.

     When the server came back with food menus and plates, though, Kirihara's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "Maji 'sska?" he asked. At least, Kevin was pretty sure it sounded like a question.

     "I have no idea what that means," was the only answer Kevin could give. He turned Kirihara's menu to the page with entrées on it and signalled him to point to something. "I'll have the turkey sandwich," he told the server for himself. It was stupidly expensive for a sandwich, but fuck it. Whatever. They both had to eat.

     Looking at where Kirihara's finger had landed, the server said, "Ah. And the Plaza Burger for the other gentleman. Your food will be out in a moment." Then he left, thank goodness.

     After another couple seconds of staring at each other in silence, Kirihara started chuckling and just wouldn't stop.

     "What the fuck are you laughing at? Like I was gonna try to get food somewhere else tonight," Kevin growled. "Everywhere's booked! And I don't trust you to order room service anymore after that thing with the snails."

     Of course, even when he stopped laughing, he didn't stop grinning. "Hontou ni omae no namae shiritainda ne. Mibunshou nusunde dekimasu ka na... Eigo wo yomenai kara muri dakedo."

     "I mean, seriously, if you're going to order snails for breakfast, at least know how to eat them so I don't have to call the concierge to ask!" There were just some things a guy didn't want to try and figure out at eight in the morning with a raging hangover, while trying to fish his underwear out from between the headboard and the wall.

     The jerk responsible didn't seem sorry for anything, though, not that Kevin was particularly sorry either. What was a concierge for, if not to answer stupid questions? Kirihara nodded his head toward the lobby while his grin turned into a smirk. "Shokuji no ato, ore no heya ni ikanai?"

     Kevin shrugged. "I assume you're asking me to have sex with you?"

     Nodding, Kirihara shot him another thumbs up. "Sou. Sex." Because that, of course, was one of the three English words he knew.

     "Why the fuck else would I be talking to you?" Kevin sighed, then returned the thumbs up so Kirihara would know the answer was yes.

     Not that he planned to give Ryoma the satisfaction of knowing that he'd hooked up with Kirihara after all. There were some things that smug friends in long term relationships just didn't need to know. And at least, unlike most people, Kirihara never gave him shit for not learning Japanese.


End file.
